ten

The month of May became a hiatus from running for me, mainly because my legs and back told me with no uncertainty that it was time to take a break.  I gritted my teeth and pouted about it, but knew that I needed to listen to my body and lay low for a while.  No long runs, no Sunday afternoon laps around Lake Fayetteville, no short mid-weekers in the  afternoon heat, and no blogging.  Okay, there was one long run and a few mid-weekers, but by and large I focused on other things, primarily the end of the school year, yardwork, and quiet solitude.  I can’t say that taking the time off was the end of the world, but returning yesterday to an official training plan felt like hanging out with an old friend, knowing that for a few hours nothing can go wrong and everything is good in the world. 

But the self-imposed hiatus was more than just not running.  I made a conscious effort to really step back and consider spending my days in Chacos instead of Asics.  Khaki shorts instead of 2-in-1’s.  In the recliner, which has been affectionately dubbed the Snack Throne, instead of on the trails.  This was relatively difficult, because I think about running a lot.  Like really a lot.  I love talking about running to friends, co-workers, other runners, anybody who wants to.  I’ve always been nervous to do so, and made a decision years ago to not bring it up because I don’t want to be that guy that never shuts up about running, but when i’m engaged in conversation by another person about running, it makes me inwardly happy.  Sometimes when I sit in meetings, i’ll make lists of cities where I want to run.  My google history is a litany of registration pages for races too numerous to count.  I plan road trips that will never happen.  I have an entire room in my house with nothing but running gear.  So to take a month away was more than a challenge, but I needed to do it.     

I’m officially registered to run the 2014 Bank of America Chicago Marathon in early October, marking my tenth marathon where this unlikely journey started four years ago.  It’s still unbelievable to me that I would ever finish even one, much less enjoy it so much that i’d do it nine more times, but that’s what has happened.  Along the way there’s been so many defining moments, none more sweet, I suppose, than that beautiful afternoon in Grant Park, laying on the manicured lawn looking up at the crystal blue heavens framed by the unmistakeable skyscrapers of Michigan Avenue.  I can close my eyes and experience that moment over and over again.  Never have my legs hurt so good, never has grass been so soft, never has beer been so cold, never have I been so proud. 

I’ve got a few goals in mind for the coming months, none of which, not surprisingly, have to do with finishing times.  Hopefully they’ll help me enjoy my tenth as much as I did my first, and all the others in between.  Nothing will match that day in 2010, but life isn’t about looking back and waxing nostalgic, but rather moving forward with every step, every mile.  It feels great to be back, doing what I love to do, in my own way.  Hopefully some cool people will be along for the ride, through early morning training runs, conversation and fellowship, through motivation to give it a try, and through reading these words each Sunday afternoon.  I’ll promise to give it my best and be happy with the outcomes no matter what.  Life is too delicate to be treated any other way.  Here’s to my tenth.

Run.